


Allowable Deductions

by out_there



Category: Sports Night
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-13
Updated: 2006-04-13
Packaged: 2017-10-15 04:59:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/157271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/out_there/pseuds/out_there
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The new business services girl has some queries about Dan's expense sheet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Allowable Deductions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [celli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/celli/gifts).



> Written for [](http://celli.livejournal.com/profile)[**celli**](http://celli.livejournal.com/)'s 2006 [taxfic challenge](http://celli.livejournal.com/580525.html). Thanks to [](http://phoebesmum.livejournal.com/profile)[**phoebesmum**](http://phoebesmum.livejournal.com/) for betaing.

"This is ridiculous. I mean, really," Dan paused for dramatic effect, falling back onto the office couch, "how am I supposed to work under these conditions?"

From behind the desk, Casey shrugged. "I don't know, Danny."

"It's ridiculous!"

"Beyond belief." Casey looked over the rundown sheet, circling the Jason Giambi story in the twenties. They needed something far more solid. "Utterly unreasonable."

"I'm a professional, doing a job. I have certain requirements. And this," Danny waved a hand towards the ceiling, "this, my friend, is ridiculous."

"I know. Ridiculous."

"It's..." Dan stopped. He sat up, bracing his hands on his thighs, and stared at Casey. "What are we talking about?"

"You know what we're talking about, Danny," Casey said, glancing up. "We're talking about how ridiculous it is that your professional needs are not being met."

"But, specifically, what are we talking about?"

Casey stalled for time. "Specifically?"

"Yeah. Specifically, as in, the precise nature of our topic of conversation."

"I have no idea. You started talking and I went with the flow. I thought about asking you, but then, you know, you'd *explain*." Casey shrugged, half in apology and half not. "Frequently, the explanation isn't worth the bother. It makes the conversation longer and, more often than not, more confusing. I figured I'd save time and start sympathizing now."

Dan blinked a few times. Then he pulled his blue sweatshirt over his head and settled back onto the couch. "What I am talking about--"

Casey groaned.

"--is the new business services girl."

"Did I know the old business services girl?"

"How would I know that?" Dan asked, waving the question away. "She shared an office with Mallory Moss."

Casey nodded. "The one who likes copyright law."

"The one who thinks you're vaguely gay."

"How am I vaguely gay? You were the one who was singing."

Dan grinned. "It's the hair."

Casey lifted a hand to check his hair, and then stopped halfway. "You know what? I don't care about this conversation any more." He stood up, gathered his notes, and left to see Jeremy.

Unsurprisingly, Dan shadowed him. "So, I got a message to go down to business services, which is where I met the new girl."

"I don't care."

"Her name is Sheila. She's an... I don't know, a business-accounting-money person--"

"That's her official title, huh?" Casey wisecracked, and then sighed. Speaking to Dan would only encourage him. He'd had years to learn that.

"She queried my expense sheet. My expense sheet!"

Casey stopped walking, looking around for Jeremy. He wasn't in the bullpen. "And I should care because...?"

"I'm a professional, doing a job. I have certain requirements. Every time we get a new girl, we go through the same rigmarole. There are questions and suspicions, and I have to justify every claim. It's ridiculous."

"Ever think that's a sign you should stop claiming those and just suck it up?"

"Suck it up?"

"Pay for it yourself," Casey stated slowly. "You can afford it. You're not exactly one of the poor and starving from India."

Casey started walking towards editing. Dan followed, saying, "I don't think you're allowed to say that any more."

"I'm not allowed to say the poor and starving from India?"

"I don't think it's politically correct."

"But they're still poor and starving there, right? I mean, they didn't get rich and full overnight, did they?"

"I think it's Ethiopia now."

Casey stopped outside the editing room. He could see Dana and Natalie, but no Jeremy. Sighing, he headed for the studio. "Too many things have changed since I grew up."

"That's because you're old," Dan said, still following him. "And this is still ridiculous."

"The fact that we're talking about it is ridiculous," Casey said, and then Dan went to complain to someone else.

He complained to several other people. Casey knew that because those other people -- Dana, Natalie, Kim and Elliot -- came to talk to him, to tell him of Dan's complaints and, three times out of four, threaten him with physical violence or public humiliation if he didn't stop Dan's whining.

"How am I supposed to stop it?" Casey had asked.

"Do I look like I care?" had been Dana's reply. Natalie had said, "No pants, mister. I'm not kidding," and Kim had shrugged, saying, "Fix it. Do whatever you do to fix it, before I'm forced to hurt him and reduce his likelihood of ever having children." That last one made Casey wince.

At least Elliot hadn't come with complaints and demands. He'd grinned. Then he'd said, "You're used to somebody else hanging out in here. So when the women get together and kill Dan, I'll make it a personal priority to stop in here every so often and keep you company."

Casey's hands were tied. He had to fix this. (Also, Jeremy had apparently dropped off the face of the earth, so Casey didn't have anything better to do.)

The business services room was precisely how Casey remembered it: a bright, smallish room with large desks and cluttered piles of paperwork. There were two desks and a woman sitting behind each. Casey shrugged and approached the one closest to the door.

"Um, are you Sheila?" he asked, smiling hopefully.

The woman looked up at him. She had straight espresso-brown hair to her shoulders, dark-rimmed circular glasses, and looked like that Harry Potter kid -- if he was female and in his late twenties. Also, she was scribbling notes with the words 'withholding' and 'exemption'. "Can I help you?"

"That depends on whether or not you're Sheila."

"She's Sheila," the other woman said in a surprisingly childlike voice.

Casey blinked and tried to banish thoughts of cartoon characters from his head. "Okay, good."

"Good?"

"Good, because I need to talk to you. See, this morning, you spoke to Danny -- Dan Rydell -- about his expense sheet. I don't think you understand the situation." She didn't look too impressed, but Casey kept trying. "Danny's, well ... he's special."

"Special?" she echoed again, and this time, she put her pen and calculator down.

"He is an individual of strong convictions. He believes in personal freedom, and equality, and loyalty." Casey paused, shifting from foot to foot. "He also doesn't change his mind easily."

"In some situations, those can be positive traits."

"He won't change his mind about the expense sheet. The best -- absolute best you could hope for -- is that he'll try to claim it on his taxes instead."

"So instead of me telling him that he has to pay for it himself, it'll be the IRS." Sheila paused, looking up at the ceiling as she thought, and then looked back at Casey. "I fail to see the problem."

"The problem is that the IRS won't be as nice about it as you are." Casey smiled the smile that had got him out of trouble as a child and had also worked on Lisa for years. It didn't seem to be working now.

"They're not known for their manners, no. But they do have a good softball team."

Casey blinked. "Do they let the other team steal bases?"

"What do you think?"

"I'm thinking nobody wants to upset the tax guy, so they probably win all their games," Casey said idly. Then he remembered the purpose of this visit. "I want you to approve Danny's expenses."

"Mr McCall--"

"Casey."

"--Casey," she said, folding her hands on the table, "that's really not going to happen. I don't think you, or I, or Mr Rydell has the power to change taxation rulings on a whim. I've already explained that. Twice."

"Couldn't you just tell him you approved it, and then approve the valid ones?"

"And what happens at the end of the month when I have a pile of receipts I can't claim and can't approve?"

"You could do what your predecessor did." Casey tried the smile again, but Sheila didn't seem moved. "You could charge it to my Visa. I'm sure the details are somewhere on my file."

Sheila blinked. "You pay for your co-anchor's expenses?"

From Casey's right, he heard the other woman cough and say, "Vaguely gay," under her breath. So that was Mallory Moss.

Casey shrugged. "It's easier than trying to explain tax law to him."

"You seriously pay for him?" Sheila asked again.

"Yeah."

"And if I agree to organize this, he won't keep calling me up and trying to convince me that having manicured hands is highly important for a sports personality and therefore should be tax deductible?"

"I can pretty much guarantee that'll stop," Casey said, thinking fast. "I'll tell Danny that I convinced you to allow the expense, but the deal's off if he ever mentions it to you again."

She shot him a bright smile and held out her hand. "In that case, I think we have a deal."

"Okay," he said, and gave her a quick, firm handshake. "And while I'm here, you're a financial, economics-type person, right?"

She shrugged. "I'm a qualified accountant."

"Close enough. You understand what words like accrual, depreciation and GDP actually mean, right? You'd understand the basis of the world economy, and this whole buy-and-sell, trade-and-barter thing and how it affects peoples' lives?" Casey asked, and she shrugged again. "So, tell me, did the poor and starving from India really move to Ethiopia?"

For no reason Casey could see, she buried her head in her hands and groaned.


End file.
